Family Guardians
by Dorano1
Summary: The sons and daughters of Kúrfri's line have served and protected the Kings under the Mountain for over a thousand years. In that time, they have had a great deal of adventures.
1. The King's Hand

**Author's Note:** I know, I'm terrible at finishing stories. x_x Please forgive me, anybody who's read Tygra, Tygra, Burning Bright or Red Shadows. I promise I'm trying to figure out what to write next!

This is mostly one-shots of this idea I had - terribly AU, but I laugh whenever I think of the more lighthearted moments. Movieverse, by the way.

* * *

The sons and daughters of Kúrfri had served the royal line for over a thousand years. Their service had begun in the year 1891, when Durin VI ruled in Khazad-dûm. Kúrfi's family, who had always been honest and honorable dwarves in the extreme, had entered the personal service of Durin VI's family after his son, Náin, had been stranded in the wild with Kúrfi's young sons, Lúfri and Súfri. It was thanks to Náin the sons had been returned safely, and Kúrfri, eternally grateful to the young dwarf, became his personal guard and near-constant companion for the rest of his life, until he fell in 1981 at the age of 232, fighting the Balrog of Moria alongside Náin.

Súfri, the older of the two brothers, was already a trusted advisor to the dwarf who had saved his life ninety years before. When word of his father's death - and that of his king's - reached him, he took up Kúrfri's post to Náin's son, Thrain I. And so the line continued, with the young of the line provided a companion and a competitor for the heir to the throne, and the older of the line serving as an advisor, companion, and guard of the king. Over time the oath changed, most drastically under Glóin, who told his companion Kúri, "Your charge is to protect me, and protect me you shall, by leading these dwarves as I bid you." From then on the descendants of Kúrfri became extensions of the king's will, specifically the middle-aged members of the line. Their sons were bound to a member once they were old enough to wield a weapon, and as they grew their service changed from companion and friendly competitor to the King's Hand when the King took the crown, and in their twilight years, as an adviser and counselor.

The daughters of Kúrfri's line were the King's ears in the common populace - filtered by their own hearts and minds, of course. They were also the voice of the commoners in the King's ear, taking ideas and compromises back and forth, whenever the King could not or would not appear himself. Both the sons and daughters of his line would learn a common trade - such as smithing, woodworking, cooking, tailoring, or masonry, to name but a few.

Over the years, a close friendship grew between the two lines, especially after the fall of Erebor. The current Hand's grandfather, Thorhof, survived with Thror, though only barely, and only to be killed later in the Mines of Moria by Azog the Defiler over Thror's body. His son, Thorvak, vanished with Thrain, leaving his own son, the current Hand, to support and protect the young king-in-exile, Thorin Oakenshield.

The latest in this line of protectors are the brothers Sethel and Sacheg, the companions of the young dwarf princes Fíli and Kíli. Sethel was very close in age to Fíli, being only five years the heir's senior. Sacheg, the younger, is even closer in age to Kíli, being only two years older then the prince. Their father, Shorvak, remains King Thorin's Hand as he has since Moria. His daughter, Samna, has taken up her recently-deceased mother's mantle.

Many adventures befell the Family Guardians. These are the chronicles of those adventures, from the silliest misadventure of youth to the great and raging battlefields.

* * *

_Good idea? Stupid idea? What-on-earth-where-you-thinking idea? _


	2. All The Time in the Word

**Author's Note:** I meant to update this earlier (what happens when you spend your days watching Skyrim parodies and restarting your laptop after it crashes), but it didn't quite work out...sorry! Anyway, more Hobbit-era stuff shall be posted soon - maybe one, two chapters after this?

* * *

Kúrfri was quite certain his king was mad. It was very tempting to inform him of this fact, but as Náin was the king, it would put him in a rather difficult position of possibly not being able to make sure the lad - king or not, Kúrfri had known him when he was just a boy, and would always see him on some level as that boy - survived as long as possible. So after telling him, once and only once, that going after the Balrog of Khazad-dûm (what the masses had started calling "Durin's Bane") was not a good idea, Kúrfri had accepted Náin's (unchanged) judgement.

Which left him thinking about what in Middle-Earth they were about to do. The Balrog had squashed Durin like a bug, as if barely registering they were there. So Kúrfri was likely to be about to start a fight that would last just long enough for the demon to step on them. For a brief moment, he had to suppress a smile at the image of a Balrog wearing dwarf boots and scraping bugs off them.

But the moment of levity passed as quickly as it had come. It was only in his quarters that Kúrfri even allowed himself to think ill of his king, but when he was here, he mentally shredded almost all of the king's actions, and told his sons - in quiet voices, in his quarters - how to avoid this sort of thing. For he had instructed them to do for Náin's son what he himself had done for Náin - especially now. He didn't say it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that neither he or Náin would be coming back from Moria.

* * *

If Kúrfri was any other dwarf, his last words would most likely have been _I told you so._

In fairness, they hadn't been stomped on within two seconds of the battle's beginning. In fairness to the Balrog, they were being toyed with.

The Balrog had just caused a tremendous avalanche with a single powerful slash from his sword. The rocks hadn't killed them, but it had left them winded and Náin struggling to free himself from the cascade of stone that had half-buried the dwarf king. Shaking his head to clear it, Kúrfri bellowed a challenge at the demon, swinging his war hammer in a potentially deadly arc at the Balrog as the thing bore down on his King. He successfully distracted the towering demon, but it sent his war hammer spiraling into the abyss below them, and left him hanging by one hand off of the side of the bridge. He gasped with the effort as he clawed to keep his grip. Finally, he managed to haul himself up onto the bridge. Although he was unarmed besides the small dagger he kept on his belt, he ignored it. Náin had managed to stay alive - alternately dodging strikes and delivering them, even though he wasn't doing any real damage.

But the Balrog had had enough. Roaring with fury, he brought his sword down in a savage overhead strike that would cleave Náin in two.

Not on Kúrfri's watch.

The aging dwarf slammed into his king, knocking him out of the path of the deadly blade. Then he twisted to face the demon and accepted his fate.

But his momentum had carried him just far enough to take him out of the blade's path. For one shining moment, they were alive, and they had a chance.

Then the whip came arcing down, slashing at the insolent little graybeard that had dared rob its master of his prey. It slammed into Kúrfri's chest and sent him flying backwards. Forgetting the danger, Náin shouted with concern and agony for his friend as the still-breathing but very much broken form of the old dwarf finally skidded to a halt. The danger reminded him there was a battle to be fought, but he ignored it, racing to Kúrfri's side. "Kúrfri..." He said, eyes wide and concerned, as he reached uselessly for something to bind the gapings wound in Kúrfri's chest and throat. Kúrfri grabbed his hand. "Too...late, old...friend." He whispered, and although Náin blamed himself for bringing the old dwarf along on this suicide mission, there was no blame or anger in the other's eyes.

"Did I...buy...you...time?" He asked, each word seeming to take an eternity to say. Náin bowed his head and nodded. "All the time in the world."

Kúrfri smiled briefly, then his grip slackened and his hand thudded to the ground. Náin's shoulder's slumped, then a hard, dangerous light entered his eyes, flashing briefly before consuming them. Standing, he faced the Balrog for the last time, and roared the ancient dwarvish war cry as he charged.

_"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!"_


End file.
